


Of Dragons and Wolves

by PattMalows



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), game of thrones
Genre: Angry sansa, Angst, Cousin Incest, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Post Season 7, Sansa is angry because Jon bent the knee, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 23:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14147172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PattMalows/pseuds/PattMalows
Summary: She wrinkles the letter in her hands. She has read it hundred times. Her mother always said, "dark wings, dark words". And these are, without doubt, the darkest words she has ever received.Sansa feels betrayed by Jon, who has bent the knee to Daenerys Targaryen and now they are coming to Winterfell together. But Sansa doesn't intend to give Daenerys the North. Jon has a lot of things to explain.





	Of Dragons and Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, originally written in Spanish. I have simply translated it into English. English is not my mother tongue, so sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> Thank you for read it. If you like it, please leave me a comment. It would make me very happy :)

She wrinkles the letter in her hands. She has read it hundred times. Her mother always said, "dark wings, dark words". And these are, without doubt, the darkest words she has ever received.

The fire of the hearth fills her rooms with a warm and crackling light, it's reflected in her eyes and makes her red hair shine, which spreads all over her back. It hasn't yet dawned, but she can't sleep, so, tired of tossing and turning in bed, she has decided to put on a heavy fur dressing gown, sit at her desk and think of a strategy for what is to come. But all she gets is to read the damned letter again and again. She knows the message by heart, but she still finds it hard to believe:

_Sansa,_

_Cersei Lannister has pledged her forces to our cause, as has Daenerys Targaryen. And if we survive this war, I have pledged our forces to Daenerys at the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. We are both coming to organize the defence of the realm._

_Jon Snow. Warden of the North_

Warden of the North.

Jon has bent the knee to the Dragon Queen and handed her the North. And now, both are coming to Winterfell to prepare for the Great War against the Night King.

The first time she read it, weeks ago, she felt all the blood of her body run up to her face and a terrible desire to cry whipped her chest. However, she managed to push all that pain inside her, because at that moment she had more important things to deal with: Petyr Baelish.

Sansa stopped trusting Littlefinger when he sold her to the Boltons, prompting her marriage to Ramsay, a psychopath who enjoyed raping her, beating her and humiliating her in ways she could never have imagined.

Since then, Sansa considered Littlefinger her enemy. She hated him. However, she needed him. After all, the Knights of the Valley were needed to recover Winterfell, and they obeyed Baelish.

On the other hand, Sansa was convinced that she could handle him. There was nothing he could do against her that he had not done to her before. However, Littlefinger became a very dangerous threat by the time Arya returned home. With Arya back, everything was different. It was evident that an union between the two Starks sisters disrupted Littlefinger's plans and her sister's life was in danger. Sansa knew very well what Littlefinger wanted: the Iron Throne and her. He wanted to manipulate her, to dupe her, in order to get control of the North. And although she's angry to admit it, he almost succeeds.

But as she has shown everyone, and especially herself, she can learn too. So much so that she finally got over the master and, with a little help from Arya and after clarifying a couple of terms with Bran, she managed to get rid of him.

She still has goosbumps as she remembers the moment when Arya cut his throat with his own dagger. She can't deny it, seeing him diying on his knees, begging for mercy and moaning her name, made her as happy as seeing Ramsay being devoured by his own dogs. And almost as happy as before leaving Winterfell, when her parents were still alive, and Robb, and little Rickon, and her precious Lady.

 

However, as soon as Littlefinger's corpse was burned and his blood wiped from the floor of the Great Hall, her mind returned to Jon's letter. And since then she has not been able to repress her emotions.

With a sudden movement, Sansa throws the letter on the table, leans on the back of her chair and with one hand massaging her forehead. Even now she is unable to control what she feels. And she feels, above all, betrayed. Jon has betrayed them all. To the Lords of the North, who elected him as their king by skipping the inheritance rights of her. To the northern people, massacred and spurred since the death of their brother Robb, who have poured their hopes on the White Wolf. To the Stark family, those who remain and those who have died, who have earned the right to take back their home. And to her, Gods, especially her. Sansa has given so much for him...

"Until I come back, the North is yours," Jon told her before going, leaving her completely in charge. He didn't want to listen to her advice before the battle against Ramsay, nor did he want to listen to her when she asked him to be smarter than father, smarter than Robb.

She has always been sure that Jon did not care what she had to say. And yet he left her in command when he left for Dragonstone. That decision filled Sansa with a warmth she had never felt before. It was the first time someone trusted her so much, that gave her so much power. She felt strong, she felt valid. And she wanted to show Jon that he hadn't been wrong with that decision. That she was a good Lady of Winterfell, who knew how to play the Game of Thrones. However, Jon left without leaving any marked guidelines, nor help. And since then, Sansa's life has consisted of a continuous struggle against the Lords of the North, who were against Jon's decision to ally with Daenerys Targaryen, trying to avoid a riot, or even her own coronation.

Sansa gave him blind trust, setting aside her own rights as a legitimate heiress of the House Stark, ignoring her own logic that shouted that trusting a Targaryen was a bad idea. She has even continued to endure the toxic presence of Littlefinger and his constant approaches and insinuations in order to maintain the Knights of the Valley. Her only goal has always been to keep the North strong and united for Jon. And he has betrayed her by giving her home to a foreign queen.

She also feels disappointed. After Jeoffry, Cersei, Ramsay, the death of her parents and brothers, all the fear, loneliness and pain, finding Jon again was like finding water in a desert. Maybe he is the one resurrected in this story, but the truth is that Sansa was dead inside when she arrived at the Castle Black, and came back to life when he met her eyes and his arms cradled her. And, again, like the silly girl she was, she put all her faith in someone who was not her. She was convinced that Jon would keep her safe, that he would take care of her, that he would never part with her. Together they had managed to return home. However, he has just given their house to a stranger without even telling her.

 That makes her want to cry, because she feels hurt. Jon has broken his word. "We have to trust each other," he said when they recovered Winterfell. He told her by looking into her eyes. He even dared to kiss her forehead! But it's clear that Jon does not trust her.

But disappointment, anger, sadness or offense are not the only feelings that pierce her heart. Sansa is scared. Scared for her, for Jon, for Bran and for Arya, for her house, for her people. For the threat of the North, for the arrival of Winter, for the presence of Cersei. She is also frightened by the ghosts of the past, especially Ramsay. She is not yet able to look at her naked body, covered with scars. She has not stopped dreaming about him every night.

She also feels lonely. Lonelier than ever. It is true that Jon and she were never very close in their childhood. Sansa's bond with her mother and Jon's bastard status prevented them from creating an authentic fraternal relationship between them. However, although she has never considered him a brother, she considers him hers, her blood, her family. And that feeling, which has always been in her, but hidden, has grown since their reunion, creating a bond between them that, although it is not of siblings, can be friends. And suddenly, Jon left. And now that he returns, she is no longer the only Stark in Winterfell, Bran and Arya have also returned and, although she is very happy to have them again, she is aware that she is once again Jon's least favorite. She is afraid that he and Arya will leave her behind as they did when they were children. Only now she does not have Robb to comfort her.

That thought makes her feel petty, but she can't lie to herself. And to be honest, there is one more feeling that Sansa has not dared to think about very much. When she received the letter, Littlefinger hinted at the possibility of a relationship between Jon and Daenerys Targaryen as an explanation for his actions. Sansa did not even contemplate that possibility, but with the passage of time it has been gaining weight in her head. Daenerys is young, and single. And they say that their beauty is overwhelming. Jon is also young and single. And although she is not the best person to point out, he is also attractive. Sansa imagines them, by the hand, joining in marriage under the heart tree of the Godswood. He, dark and strong. She, curvaceous and radiant, with silver hair shining in the sun, and violet eyes fixed on her brother. The idea now makes a lot of sense. Suddenly, a bitter taste fills her mouth and she feels like crying again.

What did she expect? That just because she has decided not to join any man again, will Jon do the same? That he will always stay by her side, in Winterfell?

She understands the absurdity of her thoughts, yet she cannot help feeling ... jealous? The simple idea shakes her heart, which beats like crazy.

With a quick movement she gets up from the chair. She cannot sit longer anymore, nor can she go back to bed. The sun begins to rise and there is much to be done.

Because two weeks ago another letter arrived from Jon:

_Sansa,_

_Queen Daenerys and I sail together to White Harbor, we will arrive in a week. I think the best would be that you could receive us there. I want you to meet Daenerys, and talk about our plans. And together we will ride back to Winterfell. The North respects you, Sansa, we need to show them that we are united._

_Jon Snow, Warden of the North_

But Sansa won't go. Absolutely not. She doesn't feel able of facing Jon and Queen Targaryen outside Winterfell. She doesn't want to see him either. She doesn't want to run at his orders as if she were Ghost. And he may have bent the knee, but she has not. And she doesn't have the intention to talk to Daenerys outside the walls of her home.

That’s why, five days ago, she sent her emissaries: Lady Brienne, her squire and the person of her highest confidence, and Arya. It's not that Arya is a great strategist or a great admirer of Sansa, but Sansa knows that she is dying to see Jon, and she doesn't intend to make them wait any longer. Also, they can have a moment for both of them.

So it's Brienne and Arya who escort the entire royal entourage. If the queen wants to meet her, she will do in the Great Hall, addressing the Lady of Winterfell. And if Jon wants to talk to her, he will have to come and look for her. She doesn't plan to make it easy for either of them.

Sansa looks out the window, while the Sun rises slowly. The day is clear, although cold, so if the weather does not change and a sudden blizzard interferes with the trip, her royal guests will arrive at noon. And she will be ready.

 

***

 

She remains standing, next to the battlements, from the balustrade that there is over the door of the castle and that will allow her to see the arrival of the royal entourage as they go through the Winter town. They must be about to arrive. Her gaze remains fixed on the horizon.

A few shy flakes perch on the fur of her black cloak. She has chosen her clothing conscientiously: a heavy dark gray velvet dress that fits at her waist with a wide black leather belt, the black fur cloak crowned by mottled gray fur that extends over her shoulders. And the wolf embroidered on her chest with a fine silver thread, the only sign of luxury in her sober image.

The only sign of colour in her is, as always, her red hair. That which makes her inevitably visible in the snowy landscape, only broken by the gray and black stones of the castle. It will be impossible for Jon and the Queen not to see her as they approach Winterfell. Good, she wants them to see her, she wants them to feel that she watches over them.

Her hair falls all over her back and reaches her waist. The upper part is gathered in a small braided bun, in the northern style, like the ones she had seen her mother take on the most special occasions. It looks nothing like the elaborate hairstyles she had worn during her stay at King's Landing.

Although Sansa has nothing to do with that little vain girl that she was, who only cared to be perfect and marry a prince, she recognizes the importance of the image and try to always use it in her favor. She knows that appearance is extremely important in communicating a message, and she is clear about what she means. Sansa is aware of her youth, so the black color helps her look older. She is also aware of her Tully features. Her red hair, her blue eyes, her soft features. Nothing to do with the black hair, gray eyes and sharp features of her father, Jon or Arya. She knows that she seems the most southern of all her siblings, however, the North is in her veins as much or more than in the rest of her family members. She has recovered Winterfell, she has united the North and has kept it safe. She wants Daenerys Targaryen feels all the power of the North when she meet her eyes.

Her gesture is impassive and haughty, showing no hint of emotion. However, under her chest, her heart beats as if it were crazy. But no one will ever know, she has become expert at hiding her emotions. She is only betrayed by the position of her hands, which remain in her chest intertwined with such force that, but for the gloves, his nails would be nailed to his skin making blood. She definitely has to do something with her hands. Maybe she can hide them under her cloak, or hold onto Ser Davos's arm. Anything except that they see her tremble.

Suddenly, a roar that she has never heard breaks the sky. Sansa looks at the horizon, overwhelmed, while two huge dragons fly over the road to the castle. Their size, even seen from afar, and their ferocity make Sansa lose her composure for a moment and cling to the wall behind her. Her first impulse is to run, to take cover. But she is the Lady of Winterfell and can ‘t run. Undoubtedly, all the inhabitants of the castle will now be leaning over the wall and the windows to see the impressive beasts, and they will feel fear. They will seek the reaction of their Lady. If they see her calm, they will be too. Besides, she does not intend to give Daenerys the luxury of intimidating her in her own home. Because without a doubt, that is what she is looking for. Why has she brought the dragons otherwise?

"To convince the Northern Lords that she is a good ally" says a voice in her head. It's a pity that the Northern Lords never see it that way.

As soon as the royal entourage appears on the road, the dragons stop focusing her attention. A group of about 50 people advance towards the castle. Sansa can distinguish Brienne and Podrick, hersister and Ser Davos. She also sees Tyrion Lannister, who was once her husband. But all of them disappear as soon as her eyes perceive a silver mane and her heart turns over in her chest. The Dragon Queen doesn't seem a big thing at this distance, however she rides as if she were.

And right next to her, on a gray horse, rides Jon. Sansa's heart starts pounding again, because although at this distance she cannot fully appreciate his face, she knows that he's looking at her.

 

*** 

 

Sansa waits inside the courtyard, with Bran on her right and Lord Royce on her left. In the second row are the rest of Lords and Ladies of the North, their bannermen. And in the end, almost hidden among the crowd, Samwell Tarly.

The castle doors open slowly and the royal procession crosses the walls of the castle. The first to enter are Arya, Podrick and Brienne, followed directly by the Dragon Queen and Jon. Jon's face is tense.

Sansa avoids looking at him, fixing her eyes on Daenerys Targaryen.

The atmosphere is tense, nobody talks while they wait for the meeting. However, when Jon dismounts his horse, a voice behind Sansa roars: "The King in the North!". Suddenly, a lot of other voices come together in the same song. "The King in the North!", "The King in the North!".

Sansa does not miss that Daenerys has tightened her jaw, while dismounting the horse. Her heart swells with pride for a moment, until she remembers Jon's betrayal, until she remembers that all these Lords and soldiers don't know what Jon has just done, until she imagines what they will do as soon as they know it.

She gives him a quick look and sees that he has his eyes fixed on the ground. At least he has had the decency to blush. She can not help thinking "the King who lost the North".

The dire wolf that lives inside her roars with rage, however, she has to return to put herself in her paper of Lady of Winterfell, because their guests already have reached them. The protocol that seems to prevail in the meeting is broken when Jon approaches to hug Bran. Although the little Stark barely reacts, Jon cradles him tightly in his arms, visibly moved. Sansa wishes that she and her brothers were alone. This is too intimate. However, the Queen, Tyrion and the rest of their companions are respecting the moment. Daenerys watches the scene with tenderness. That baffles Sansa.

Jon separates with a hint of a smile on his lips and addresses her:

-Sansa ... - he says, with a tone full of affection.

-Your Grace- Sansa responds in a monotone voice and making a brief bow, which is imitated by the bannersmen. The gesture is solemn and cold, Sansa has never called him that, even in public. And although it's true that no one even knows that Jon is no longer a king, it has never been necessary for her to use the title.

Jon frowns and looks at her with a question in his eyes. However, he recomposes and extends an arm to the blonde Targaryen. She approaches to them and Jon speaks again to Sansa:

-My Lady - now it's Sansa who frowns, it's the first time Jon uses that title with her - I want to introduce you to Daenerys Stormborn, of the House Targaryen, rightful heiress of the Iron Throne - he ends, briefly, without mention the rest of the titles that the Dragon Queen has.

-Your Grace- answers Sansa, bowing her head. For Daenerys there is no reverence - I trust you have had a good trip.

-No doubt it has been, my Lady. Although I have to say that I have not finished getting used to the cold - says Daenerys smiling - you are very kind to welcome us in your home.

The attitude of the queen baffles Sansa. She is showing humble, nothing to do with the temperament that one would expect from a Targaryen. She really seems to want to create a cordial relationship between them. But Sansa is not going to make it that easy. This is her home.

-For us it's a pleasure to finally meet the Mother of Dragons - she says imitating her smile. And she adds - although regretting it a lot, we have not prepared anything to house the dragons, we did not expect their arrival.

-Don't worry, neither my children nor my army will cross the walls of Winterfell- Daenerys replies without losing her spirit.

-They are educated beasts- says Tyrion, standing next to Daenerys- far more than most men you can find in the taverns of King's Landing. Lady Sansa ... you don't know what saddens me that you are not my wife anymore, you are more beautiful than ever - he says as he takes her hand and kisses her - but I'm afraid you are Sansa Stark again.

-I've never stopped being Sansa Stark, Lord Tyrion- she replies, but his joke has not bothered her.

-I think that's why you've survived. Northerners are hard to kill - he says with a laugh. And getting serious, he adds - I'm glad to see you safe and sound.

-Me too - Sansa answers, with tenderness.

Jon breaks the moment with a cough and all eyes turn to him.

-I think we should meet as soon as possible, there are many issues to deal with- he says lowering his voice.

Without looking at him, Sansa responds to the crowd:

-This evening we will celebrate a feast to welcome our guests! My Ladies and Lords, I hope you honor us with your presence.

-Sansa! - Jon mutters again, taking her arm, while Tyrion and Daenerys exchange indecipherable glances - there is no time for feasts! Death knocks at our doors! Call the banne...

-The banners men are summoned for tomorrow morning- interrupts Sansa, looking into his eyes for the first time - and perhaps you have left your manners in the South, Your Grace, but that is how we do things in Winterfell. These men hope to celebrate the return of their king, it will be easier to address the issue if they have been entertained before. Things have changed a lot in your absence.

Jon lets go of his arm while he looks at her fiercely. Sansa knows that he is angry, but she still continues, turning to Daenerys and Tyrion, and regaining his soft and polite tone:

-Your Grace, Lord Tyrion, my maidens will show you your rooms. I hope you find them to your liking. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask my servants.

Sansa remains in the courtyard while Daenerys and her counselors disappear through the castle gates. Jon is still at her side. Suddenly, they are the only ones in the yard, because Arya, Brienne and Podrick have gone to the stables and the rest of the crowd has been dispersing. Sansa turns uncomfortably, not expecting to be alone with him so soon. She hurries inland, but Jon holds her arm.

-Do you plan to talk to me at some point? – he says harshly.

For a few seconds Sansa stares at him. Finally she answers:

-I think there is someone who is more willing to talk to you than I do - she says, nodding behind Jon, who turns to see Sam.

Perfect, this will give Sansa more time to prepare. Because she knows she cannot avoid him forever.

 

***

 

For the rest of the afternoon, Sansa has managed to keep on moving, preparing the feast, going down to the kitchens, helping the servants to take out tablecloths, supervising the decoration of the Great Hall, attending to requests from the Lords of the North. Never staying too long in the same place. And so she has managed to avoid Jon.

And now she's in her rooms, giving the final touch to her dress for tonight with a silver brooch in the form of a dire wolf. She look in the mirror once again, her image is serious and elegant. An authentic Lady of Winterfell.

Breathing deeply and mentalizing herself to face her guests again, she reaches the door and opens it. But, when leaving, a body stops her. Jon.

-Have you finished playing hide and seek? - he asks sullenly - can you talk to me for a moment?

Sansa looks down and answers hastily:

-The feast is about to begin, it would be very rude for the hosts to make their guests wait.

She moves forward, trying to push Jon away. But he grabs her arms and pushes her back into the room.

It's not a strong push, but his gesture and the speed with which he closes the door behind him make Sansa tremble.

-I don't give a shit about your stupid feast! You are going to talk to me! - he says raising his voice a little.

Sansa's initial fear turns into fiery anger. She wants to slap him. But Jon is a warrior, a man accustomed to blows, probably her small and thin hand wouldn't do more than tickle. And Sansa wants to hurt him. So use her words.

She manages to turn all her internal fire into the most icy gesture on her face. With a small bow and voice like ice, she responds:

-As you wish, my Lord.

The words cause the desired effect and, after a few seconds in silence, Jon changes the weight of his body and sighs. Sansa doesn't look at him, her eyes have nailed into her hands, which rest on her abdomen.

Jon tries again, this time his voice is softer, his tone hesitant and friendly.

-It's been weeks ... we have not exchanged many words in all this time. I just want to ... know how you are.

A brief sarcastic laugh escapes Sansa. How is she? Hurt. Angry. Sad. Scared. Disappointed.

-Surprised - she answers - surprised that you are interested.

Jon fits the blow with dignity and continues:

-It seems that you are doing very well as Lady of Winterfell. Brienne and the soldiers have told me how well you did it. And Arya. Arya says you were born for this. That your way of handling the bannersmen has been masterful.

He ends with a little smile. Sansa doesn't think to soften, of course she is a good Lady.

-I just tried not to let everything we have achieved crumble. To keep the North united and everyone safe. You have not made it easy for me with your ... decisions - she says coldly, still without looking at him.

Jon's face shrinks again in a gesture of pain. But he tries again:

-Arya also told me about Littlefinger. I'm ... I'm very proud of you ...

-Littlefinger was an enemy of the North - Sansa cut him off abruptly - Now you know what happens to the enemies of the North.

Jon loses his composure a bit, his voice sounds pained:

-Are you threatening me, Sansa?

-Not at all - her voice is still cold, her gesture unfathomable. Her look in her hands - I'm just warning you. I'm not the only one who can impart justice here. I didn't name you King, Jon, it was them. And if they feel betrayed, they can ask for justice.

-They ... they listen to you, Sansa, I know they do it. I need…

-What? - she cuts again, the voice down two degrees the temperature of the room, she continues very slowly - Tell me. What more do you need, Jon? What do I have left to give you? You already have my rights. You have my titles, you have my protection. You had my confidence. My respect. My admiration.

She shuts up, because a knot has begun to form in her throat and she doesn't intend to let a single tear escape.

Jon's voice sounds defeated when he asks:

-And I don't have them anymore?

-You lost them when you gave our house to a foreign queen.

-Sansa ...

-Didn't it occur to you that I could have something to say about it? That, simply, I deserved to know?

Jon is approaching two steps towards her. There is longing and sadness in his voice when he speaks:

-You're right. I am sorry. I should have written to you. I should have involved you in this decision. But we didn't have time. We don't have time. The situation is desperate.

Sansa swallows again. Two, three, five seconds pass until she speaks again, her eyes fixed on the ground:

-It doesn't matter anymore, right?

-Sansa ... look at me. Please.

-I can't - she replies. And with a quick movement, she leaves the room.

 

***

 

The feast runs without problems. The Northern Lords eat and drink, talk and laugh loudly and even dance. Nothing suggests the conflict that will unravel the next day.

At the main table, the situation is different. Jon, in the middle, struggles to maintain a relaxed image, but Sansa, who sits to his right, knows him too well and knows he is not comfortable. She notices it in the tense vein of his neck, in his hand that holds too tightly the pitcher full of ale from which he drinks again and again. She feels the same but, once again, she has put on her mask, and she smiles sweetly and responds to all those who talk to her.

Daenerys Targaryen, sitting to Jon's left, seems more relaxed. Maybe she's a better actress, thinks Sansa. But she can't know, because the Dragon Queen laughs and speaks naturally. She seems a close person. And she is striving to be kind to Sansa. She has asked her about life in the Castle, about the traditions of the North, she also has praised the food and expressed with great enthusiasm her admiration for Sansa's skills for sewing, repeating over and over again how precious her dress looks.

Sansa feels a bit overwhelmed by Daenerys' attitude. She doesn't look like the haughty, fierce woman her advisors have told her she is. Moreover, seeing her in her white dress and braided hair, her small stature and her smiling violet eyes, it’s hard to imagine that she has massacred a great part of the Lannister army. And yet, she has done it.

"She also saved Jon from dying by the hand of white walkers beyond the Wall," whispers a voice in her head. Sansa dismisses it immediately. She doesn't want to soften, she still believes that trusting Daenerys is crazy.

Lord Royce claims Jon's presence, and he gets up and leaves the main table. Daenerys turns to Tyrion and starts talking to him. Sansa stares at her plate, sighing.

To her right, Arya's voice interrupts her thoughts:

-I'm surprised you have not hit Jon yet. Good self-control, sister, I hear you grind your teeth from here.

Sansa laughs sadly.

-As if you let me put a hand on him.

-What?

-Come on, Arya, don't pretend. You were diying of desire to see him. You have always been his weakness.

Arya's face grows dark.

-Don't be wrong, I love Jon. But that doesn't mean that I agree with what he has done. I feel betrayed too, Sansa.

A wave of affection towards her sister floods Sansa. She wants to take Arya's hand and squeeze it, but she doesn't feel capable. Instead, she decides to break the tension with a joke.

-You could play the game of faces with him. Maybe we can fix this mistake if you use his face.

Arya lets out a snort.

-And that Daenerys Targaryen lunges on me to devour me? I prefer to avoid it!

-Daenerys Targaryen? - Sansa asks with a frown.

-Yes, didn't you notice how she looks at Jon? - she says raising her eyebrows. Sansa understands what her sister means, and feels her stomach turn over. But before she can continue, Daenerys has risen from her chair and has placed herself next to Sansa.

-Lady Sansa, would it be too much to ask that you could accompany me to my chambers? My people and I have already abused enough of your hospitality and it is only fair that we let you celebrate the arrival of the Lord of Winterfell. However, I don't want to miss the opportunity to talk with you in privacy.

There's nothing that appeals to Sansa less than being alone with Daenerys Targaryen. But, once again, her duties as Lady of Winterfell make her get up and leave the room with the queen. Just as they pass through the door, Sansa's eyes meet Jon's. Jon's face is indecipherable.

They walk together in a silence that Daenerys breaks quickly:

-It has been an excellent banquet, Lady Sansa. It had been a long time since I had eaten so well.

\- I thank you for your words, Your Grace, but I am afraid that we have not been able to offer you much. Your arrival has been a surprise for the whole North- responds Sansa educated but dryly.

Daenerys stands in front of her and looks at her with understanding.

-I know. Believe me, it wasn’t in my plans either. But what we have seen beyond the Wall has made this alliance inevitable. I hope you understand the need.

-I understand, Your Grace. But the point is, I am not sure that this is a beneficial alliance for the North in long terms.

-First we have to be able to survive to discover what can happen in long terms.

Sansa knows she's right. That infuriates her. She's able to understand perfectly what the real enemy is. But she can't just trust Daenerys.

When they arrive at the chambers, the queen speaks again. This time her tone is more intimate.

-Lady Sansa, I give you my word that I won't do anything with the North that the North doesn't want. I won't do anything with the North without the consent of the House Stark. In practical facts, your family will continue to govern the North.

-But you will still have the last word - Sansa replies bitterly.

-And so it must be- Daenerys continues - we need a united realm. Now more than ever to face what is coming. Both from the North and from the South.

-It is not me you have to convince, Your Grace. I'm not the Queen in the North. I'm not even the Lady of Winterfell. It's with my brother you must agree with, and it seems that you have already done it.

-You're wrong, Sansa. Of course I need to convince you. The North listens to you, respects you and loves you. Jon has told me everything you have done to recover it and unite it. And here I have seen that sewing is not the only thing you know how to do. You know how to rule. I want your brother as an ally, but I want you too - Daenerys responds - I know you are smart, and that you will listen to Jon and you will make the right decision.

Sansa feels overwhelmed. She didn't expect Daenerys Targaryen to speak to her with such respect. However, it only responds:

-Good night, Your Grace- and with a little bow, she leaves.

When she crosses the first corridor, Sansa's head is a whirlwind of emotions. She leans on a pillar, holding her hands to her temples. The voice of Tyrion Lannister interrupts her thoughts:

-She is not what you expected, right? - he asks with a friendly voice.

-She is a complete stranger - Sansa responds defensively.

-She is. But you are also an stranger for her, and yet here she is, far from her home, unprotected and willing to make a pact to save us all.

Sansa laughs sarcastically.

-Coming with two dragons is not exactly being unprotected.

-Sansa, Daenerys is a woman of her word. She wants to make this work. If you knew her, I am convinced that you would like her. It looks a lot like you, in fact. She has also grown up away from home, she has also suffered abuse, has been married by force, has been sold like a mare and raped. And yet here she is, alive and powerful. Same as you.

Tyrion's words move Sansa. The Lannister continues:

-I'm not asking you to leave you aside and let Daenerys and Jon Snow make all the decisions. Surely you figure out some way to equal the conditions of the North with respect to those of the queen. To recover a certain autonomy, even to be the true Lady of Winterfell. There are ways to do it without having to resort to war.

Sansa notices a twinge in her chest, knowing what Tyrion is implying.

\- A marriage, Lord Tyrion? Do you really think that Daenerys Targaryen is going to want to share her throne with a bastard from the North?

-Well, she has already shared the bed ... - Tyrion replies with a smile.

Suddenly, Sansa's heart stops and all the blood leaves her body and concentrates on her face. Her cheeks turn red with rage, but Tyrion interprets it as blush.

-Excuse me, my Lady, I have drunk too much, these are not subjects to deal with a lady. I think it's time for me to retire to my chambers.

Sansa doesn’t answer. She turns around and walks quickly to her chambers. As she moves through the corridors, her head doesn't stop spinning. What has she just discovered?

_Jon has slept with Daenerys._

_Littlefinger was right._

_Jon has slept with Daenerys._

_Littlefinger was right._

She can't believe it. She doesn't want to believe it.

Suddenly, rage takes over her entire body and runs to Jon's chambers.

Jon is sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace in his chambers. Despite it's late and he is exhausted from the whole trip, he doesn't feel able to get into bed. So he's just sitting with a half-empty beer mug watching the fire.

Since he came back to life, it is very difficult for him to sleep.

Just when he decides it's time to go to bed, the door burst open and a red mane burst into the room.

-Sansa ... - he says confused

Sansa crosses the space that separates them and with an unusual force takes it by the leather doublet forcing him to get up.

-What are you doing? - Jon asks, pushing her away

-You're a traitor, Jon Snow, a liar traitor!

Sansa's fierceness leaves Jon completely perplexed, trying to explain himself.

-How many times I have to tell you, Sansa! I did what I had to do to save us!

-What you had to do? Did you also been forced to sleep with her?

The words slap Jon, who stands still and silent. Sansa releases it with a push.

-You really gave away the North for the cunt of a foreign whore? Have you betrayed us all to fuck her?

Sansa has never said such dirty words, but she has never felt so humiliated, sad and betrayed.

-It is not what you think, Sansa - Jon answers trying to calm her, approaching her. He grabs her arm but she snatches it away.

-Oh no? And what is? Have you fallen in love with her? Then you're stupider than I thought!

-I have not fallen in love with her!

-I trusted you, Jon! I trusted you would take care of me! I trusted you were noble! But you are like all men. An animal unable to control its instincts. A pig that betrays his family for a whore's cunt.

-Enough, Sansa! You have no idea!

Sansa wants to hit Jon, but she knows that with her arms she cann't do much damage, so she uses the cruelest words she can find.

-You're a fucking bastard and a liar! My mother was right, you can't trust a bastard.

The words hurt Jon in the depths of his heart, and he can no longer control his anger. He grabs Sansa's arm and pushes it hard, making her hit the wall. It is not a very strong blow, but it's enough to scare her.

-WHAT THE HELL DO YOU CARE WITH WHO I SLEEP WITH! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU CARE IF I FUCK A WHORE OR THE MOTHER OF DRAGONS! IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!

He brings his face to her and whispers with the most menacing of voices.

-Don't ever use my private life to question my decisions, have you understood me? I know perfectly to separate duty from my desires.

Sansa's voice is cold as ice when she responds, looking at him again:

-You know nothing, Jon Snow.

Those words ... Something breaks inside Jon, unleashing, along with the most painful memories, an animal fierceness that he can't control. His first instinct is to slap her. Instead, he takes her by the waist and the hair and presses his body against her, kissing her hard, with suppressed rage, with hunger, with thirst. Thirst for her, thirst for that kiss.

At first, Sansa receives his lips with surprise, and for a few seconds, the fear paralyzes her, but when Jon's tongue forces her to part her lips, Sansa succumbs to the kiss and corresponds with the same fierce, pulling hard on the Jon's shirt, pulling him closer to her.

Neither of them is aware of how long the kiss lasts, it looks like years, lives.

Suddenly, Sansa recovers the notion of the present and quickly separates from Jon. They both look at each other, seeing each other for real, maybe for the first time. Sansa slaps him, although in reality she would like to slap herself. Jon doesn't react, and she disappears through the door.

As she runs down the hall to her chambers, a new feeling runs through her body. Desire.

And another one that she knows very well. Fear.

Inside his room, Jon is feeling the full weight of what he has just done. He just kissed his sister. With desire. With passion. And only the Gods know what else could have happened if she had not left.

Jon feels afraid, guilty and ashamed. But the truth is, since he came back to life, he had not felt so alive.

He has not yet decided whether he should look for Sansa and apologize, or go down to the kitchens for more beer when someone knocks on his door.

-Go ahead - he says hoarsely.

In the doorway Sam appears pushing Bran's chair into the room.

-What are you doing so late here? - he asks distracted.

-Jon, your brother has something to tell you...

 


End file.
